Hsu Yung-Chin’s Contemporary Calligraphy

by Zheng Fang-He, Art Critic/ Writer

In The Location of Culture the post-colonial critic Homi Bhabha wrote: 

The 'beyond' is neither a new horizon, nor a leaving behind of the past.... Beginnings and endings may be the sustaining myths of the middle years; but in the fin de siècle, we find ourselves in the moment of transit where space and time cross to produce complex figures of difference and identity, past and present, inside and outside, inclusion and exclusion. For there is a sense of disorientation, a disturbance of direction, in the 'beyond': an exploratory, restless movement caught so well in the French rendition of the words au-delà - here and there, on all sides, fort/da, hither and thither, back and forth.”

Hsu Yung-Chin’s work embraces Bhabha’s perspective that a contemporary artist need not entirely abandon traditional forms, such as calligraphy, in order to express a modern sensibility. Instead, the contemporary artist explores and explodes into many different directions in a way that celebrates both the culture’s past and present identity. It is through the exploration of the various dimensions of their culture that a contemporary artist finds their own voice.

Taiwanese calligraphy is inextricably linked to traditional Chinese culture. However, when looking at Taiwanese calligraphy, you must also consider the nation’s history. Taiwan is a country that has consistently found itself marginalized by more powerful countries.  This was true when it was a colony of Holland, and then a colony of Japan, and it is true today in its political struggle with China, which has caused Taiwan to become a taboo subject on the international stage. What’s more, America’s dominance of the world’s political, economic, and cultural spheres have all had an effect on Taiwan’s development. All of these factors have contributed in making Taiwanese culture not only remarkably hybrid, but also a culture that struggles to find its own identity. 

It begs the question: How can a hybrid nation such as Taiwan, surrounded and marginalized by the world’s two great powers, forge an identity of its own?  Bhabha notes that a nation like Taiwan must create a “third space” for itself as a “precondition for the articulation of cultural meaning”.  This third space is a space that is critical of notions of cultural essentialism and promotes the proactive creation of culture. It is by creating a third space that Taiwanese calligraphy has and will continue to grow. 

The emergence of a new style of calligraphy in Taiwan is in line with what Edward W. Said calls, “reconstruction”. It is a way to counteract the impact of colonialism on present day Taiwan.  In this process of reconstruction we can use the concepts of “replacing language” and “replacing text” found in the book The Empire Writes Back by Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin. Even though these concepts were originally meant for literature, they can be applied to calligraphy. We can replace language by encouraging local calligraphers to have their own voice in defining their own calligraphic culture. This allows artists to reject the oppressive influence of colonialism and demonstrate the local cultural experience.   We can replace the text by going beyond traditional content and writing styles. 

The Pioneers（2000）
Hsu Yung Chin

Hsu Yung Chin’s Bitter Passage to Taiwan (1993) is based on the poem of the same name by a Hakka poet of the Qing Dynasty.  Hsu’s work focuses on the following lines:

Do not go to Taiwan

Taiwan is like the gates of hell,

Thousands of people go,

But no one returns,

Alive or dead, nobody knows

At the time the poem was written, crossing the Taiwan Strait was very dangerous. Countless people died and it was impossible to notify anyone about the fate of those who tried to cross. In Bitter Passage to Taiwan, Hsu Yung Chin tries to capture the chaos, anguish and terror involved in such a perilous journey. To emphasize these feelings, the paper on which the poem is written is torn in strips revealing a red cloth below.  This gives the impression of the poem being stained by long bloody tears. Taiwan’s larger or more established ethnic groups often marginalized the Hakka immigrants that did survive the perilous voyage. So in order to persevere in a new land, Hakka people repressed their identity and mixed with the other cultures present within Taiwan.  However, a fundamental shift occurs after the KMT declares martial law in 1949 and tries to suppress the Hakka language. After this, a Hakka rights movement is born and the reclamation of a Hakka identity begins. 

In The Pioneers（2000）, Hsu contrasts Su Tung Po’s traditional poem, Ode to the Red Cliff, with the previously mentioned Bitter Passage to Taiwan. Su’s poem is written in a small cursive style and forms the background of the piece. It is overshadowed by the large bold strokes that make up selected pieces from Bitter Passage to Taiwan. The characters for “No return”,  “Crying Tears”, “Chopped off head”,  and “Burned to Death” are all written in Hakka. The opposition created by the two poems highlights the antagonism between Hakka and traditional Chinese culture even while the larger size of the selections from Bitter Passage to Taiwan make Hakka culture the focus of the work. 

Doing, 1994, Hsu Yung-Chin

The experience of Hakka migrants echoes Bhabha’s ideas of marginalized people struggling to find identity within the third space.  Hsu uses his calligraphy to help discover and express a Hakka identity within a hegemonic Chinese culture. 

Hsu’s work also looks at Taiwanese culture as a whole. The piece Nomadic, Adventurous, Wild (1993) examines the hard work and struggles of Taiwanese pioneers. Specifically, the frontier spirit these pioneers embodied. In Doing (1994), Hsu uses a heavy black background and angular golden characters to examine the issue of corruption in modern Taiwanese politics. In Chinese, the term “black gold” refers to corruption. Hsu’s work Taiwan celebrates many of the wonderful aspects of living on the beautiful island.  The hospitality of Taiwanese people, the rich natural environment, the strength of social and familial bonds, and the island’s many opportunities for adventure are all represented within the text. The work Fierce, Wild, Astonishing, Explosive, Hot, Cool (2000) represents the spirit that is evident throughout Taiwanese society.  

Hsu helps define the unique boundaries of Taiwan’s historical and cultural experience. His work helps show the differences between Taiwanese and traditional Chinese culture while contributing to Taiwan’s goal of creating an internationally recognized identity. 

Furthermore, through his calligraphy, Hsu explores a Taiwanese identity that was transformed by colonization and the influence of traditional Chinese culture. Calligraphy’s deep connection with traditional Chinese culture often leaves both the art form and the artist alienated from modern society. In 21st century Taiwan, an artist that exclusively uses language and tropes from a past culture will struggle to legitimately express themselves and their culture. Hsu says, “We live on this land, drink the water here, breathe the air here, eat the rice that is grown here, live in houses built here, but our mind and spirit is far away from here. Our minds are still floating in the illusion of an ancient Chinese culture from thousands of years ago. I would feel sorry for myself, this land and this time if I created art as though I lived in an ancient illusion.” 

Taiwan, 台灣, 2004, Hsu Yung-Chin

Hsu is not only interested in social influences on Taiwanese culture, but also the environmental influences. The island’s unique geographic location, at the point where the Eurasian and Philippine tectonic plates collide, has meant its residents have faced many terrible natural disasters. Hsu’ work The Sky Shakes, The Earth Trembles was inspired by the devastating 9/21 earthquake. The powerful earthquake shook the whole island, changing mountains and rivers, and collapsing buildings across the country. However, this devastation also exposed the strong will and determination of Taiwan’s people. In The Great Flood, Hsu looks at the destruction caused by Typhoon Morakot. The overwhelming size and force of the typhoon caused widespread flooding and horrific mudslides that tragically swallowed entire villages. 

The Ocean Flipping Over commemorates the devastating tsunami that struck Japan on March 11^th, 2011. The work is a powerful representation of the chaotic and boundless strength of not just the tsunami, but nature itself. All of the recent natural disasters occurring globally can be seen as nature’s counter attack against the irresponsibility of humanity. Through this work, and the disaster it records, people can contemplate their role in the recent natural disasters occurring around globe. Indeed, after the tsunami there was a large international outcry against nuclear power. 

Hsu is also interested in global warming and the future natural disasters that the Taiwanese might have to face. The characters in Floating take the shape of Taiwan, but Hsu’s deft use of dots in creating the two characters gives the impression of an island overrun by the ocean, with only the taller peaks rising above sea level.

Shock 911, 2001, Hsu Yung-Chin

Only by raising our consciousness can we save our children and the earth from environmental collapse. However, enlightenment is made all the more difficult when we are a facing a constant barrage of social and environmental problems.  Meditation is a reminder that we must calm our minds in order to have a spiritual awakening. The two works, The Economy Soars and The Country Flourishes, The People Live in Peace, were both made as prayers for the world’s people. Love in Light symbolizes an ark filled with love being bathed in a peaceful light.  

Positive works, such as those mentioned above, are necessary after the past century brought so much turmoil to not only Taiwan, but to people all across the globe. The world’s people have been affected by not only environmental disasters, but also by religious and racial conflict, as well as economic uncertainty.  Perhaps nothing underscores this new era of global instability as much as the disbelief felt after the terrorist attacks of 9/11. In Shock 911 Hsu’s heavy use of red and black, coupled with his wild cursive style, captures not only the moment when the planes slammed into the buildings, but also the emotional rending felt by billions of people as these images were broadcast around the world. 

With Black Turning Red, Hsu looks at the effects that international economic interconnectivity have on smaller markets like Taiwan. Specifically, how the American and Chinese markets have a greater impact on Taiwan than ever before.  The expression “black turning red” refers to a bad situation becoming a good situation. The work’s bold golden spiral, cutting through both the black and red, is an expression of hope that Taiwan will emerge from economic troubles as a prosperous nation.  

Life Code, 2007, Hsu Yung-Chin

Hsu is not only concerned with political and economic issues, he is also heavily drawn to Taiwan’s natural beauty. Sacred Bird Mountain is one of many celebrations of this beauty. The three characters that constitute the mountain’s name are piled onto one another to form the shape of a mountain. Dense black strokes are contrasted with softer grey strokes to give the feeling of the fog that sometimes surrounds the mountain. Throughout the work tiny monks can be found relaxing and having discussions about Zen.  

Hsu also looks at aspects of popular culture in Taiwan. Life Code celebrates a unique piece of Taiwanese slang. The characters for “good” and “cock” are beautifully written in an old script that Hsu augments for the purpose of the piece.  The character for “cock” is “diu”, a Cantonese word recently adopted by Taiwanese youth that, when said with “good”, roughly translates to “amazing”. The acrylic work Blessing gets its name from a pop song of the same name. In the center of the work the word “blessing” is repeated many times over a black background. On the left and right side, the following part of the Diamond Sutra is written in glue and then painted over in orange: “If all forms are recognized as illusion, the Tagthagata will be perceived.” The work contrasts the seemingly opposed religious ideas that life is an illusion and yet we pray for blessings. 

Comfort Woman, 2001

Hsu was recently asked to write the title for the movie Monga. The film examines a bloody and dramatic era in Taipei’s history when gangsterism was rampant. The characters in the title embody not only blood and violence, but also the youthful quest for meaning. Another part of Taiwanese history that Hsu has examined is the Japanese treatment of the Taiwanese during the Second World War. The Japanese army hired young Taiwanese women as domestic workers and then forced them into sexual slavery. In Comfort Women each character used in writing the words “Comfort Woman” resembles a woman’s naked body. Hsu’s use of gentle flowing lines gives the bodies a feeling of youth and virginity. The work is a way of both remembering a painful part of Taiwanese history and of commemorating the pain suffered by these young women. 

How can calligraphy be combined with theater and multimedia art? How can calligraphy give a timeless recounting of Taiwan’s history? Hsu’s latest multimedia work, Taiwan Dreams: A Fusion of Calligraphy, Music, and Motion offers answers to these questions. It contains sixteen different works separated into three chapters: The Bitter Passage to Taiwan, Rebirth from Disaster, and Love and Bless. Taiwan Dreams combines Hsu’s calligraphy with drumming and visual effects to create an overwhelming sense of emotion and momentum while telling the story of Taiwan’s history. It is a clear demonstration of how contemporary calligraphy can be used to record Taiwan’s history in a way that reflects our time.

 title for the movie Monga, 2009

Taiwanese calligraphy may have originated in ancient China, but Taiwan’s history as a colony and the influence of a globally connected world, have made both Taiwan and its calligraphy into a hybrid.  Taiwanese calligraphers face cultural imperialism by the world’s dominant cultures, a situation which resonates with many of Bhabha’s ideas.  The influence of Japan, China and the West have allowed Taiwan to develop a new and heterogeneous type of calligraphy. It is defined by the core boundaries of traditional Chinese calligraphy, yet exists at the edge of this boundary, manufactured by its hybridity and its differences from the center from which it came.  In this way, Taiwanese calligraphy escapes the hegemony of traditional Chinese calligraphy, resets the expectations that govern all calligraphy, and helps create a new cultural aesthetic within Taiwan.

All of these ideas are what drive Hsu. He creates beyond the restraints of a single art form or culture in order to examine both the spirit of Taiwan and humanity as a whole.   

Love and Light, 2011, Hsu Yung Chin

The Two Breakthroughs of Contemporary Calligrapher Hsu Yung- Chin 

by Xiao Qiong-Rui, Taiwanese Art Historian/ Art Critic, 2012

Upon entering Hsu’s exhibition at MOCA, I was greeted by rumbling drums and a whirling wall of calligraphy. The sights and sounds combined to produce an overwhelming momentum that filled  my  eyes and ears.  Here was Taiwan Dreams, the story of Hsu Yung-Chin’s life. 

Bitter Passage to Taiwan, 120x200cm, 1993

Hsu was once a constant champion within Taiwan’s calligraphy scene.  When examining the work  that took first place in the National Student Calligraphy and Youth Calligraphy Competitions, or  his winning pieces at the 30th National Art Competition, you can  see the  strong fundamentals that underline all  his work. But after winning such prestigious awards, what is the next step for an artist?  Hsu, introspective and self-motivated, realized there was little creativity to be found in continuing with calligraphy competitions.  He turned his back on competition and sought personal expression through his craft.  This controversial decision was a milestone in Hsu’s life, but was also the beginning of a difficult road.  Difficult as it might have been, it was the path he chose for himself. 

When Hsu decided to stop competing, Taiwanese calligraphy was gripped by conservatism. However, people had begun to understand the need to modernize the art form. Though Hsu didn’t appreciate it at the time, this was the exact the path he was on. It is clear now that Hsu took a pioneering role in modernizing Taiwanese calligraphy. The result of his growth and change has been a wonderful new art form. An art form that Hsu created by successfully combining calligraphy and ink painting.

Over the years, Hsu has developed many aspects of modern calligraphy, be it with materials, form, or content.  In the piece, Divine Dragon, Hsu draped a long piece of red cloth over grass to form the character, “Big Dragon”. Another example experimentation with materials was the installation Bitter Passage to Taiwan, which finds him using red and black paper that is torn, cut, and glued together.  The work Nomadic, Adventurous, Wild, which is part of the Taipei Fine Arts Museum’s collection, is a most outstanding example of post-war calligraphy because of how it captures the mood and spirit of Taiwan at the time.  In The Sky Shakes, The Earth Trembles Hsu creates an evocative piece by channeling the terrible experience of the 9/21 earthquake. 

 The Sky Shakes, The Earth Trembles, 1999

Today, Hsu’s style is  more relaxed, yet somehow more accurate. In 2007, Hsu completed the acrylic work The Absolute Void, the Supernatural Existence in which he deconstructs these meaningful characters and uses a variety of colors.  Far from the black and white of traditional calligraphy, Hsu’s use of vibrant colors and the symbolic deconstruction of the characters represent calligraphy in its modern form. However, even within this mode, the lines retain the profound fluidity and tempo of traditional calligraphy. In the 2008 work Awareness, the black strokes are reminiscent of a dragon’s movements while the white lines, barely visible, give the feeling of frantic scurrying. The Romance of the Three Kingdom, also completed in 2008, uses glue to write out the opening poem of that ancient novel (O so vast, O so mighty/The Great River rolls to sea/Flowers do waves thrash/Heroes do sands smash…), that conveys a feeling of tragedy. 

Hsu’s Zen practice encompasses both his work and his life. Indeed, only by releasing your mind can you bring true inspiration into calligraphy. He works hard but he also enjoys himself.  Hsu once said, “When I create, I feel like I am making love on paper. I am full of the passion felt when you first fall in love. There is a romance between the brush and the paper. I am transported out of myself, into an ecstatic state, and from there I can express my deep passion for life.” Hsu has brought a new vision to calligraphy. Regardless of the form or content, his work reaches to boundless heights.

Nomadic, Adventurous, Wild
1993, Hsu Yung-Chin

One ubiquitous sight in the streets of Taiwan is the logo he created for the National Tourism Bureau. He has also created logos for the Miaoli Culture and Tourism Bureau,  for the Council for Hakka Affairs, and the Taichung’s Calligraphy Greenway. Hsu participated in the Taiwan Pavillion’s calligraphy installation at the Shanghai Expo. He wrote a slogan, “The Poetic Beauty of Flowers” for the Taipei’s Flower Expo.  He also wrote the titles for the movie’s Monga and Father.  

In 2011, Hsu made another artistic breakthrough when he began mixing calligraphy with digital media. Digital media produces and captures images that are unaffected by time.  The beauty found in Hsu’s swaying lines is also timeless and there is a definite synergy when they are captured in digital media. This recent exhibit not only combined calligraphy with digital art but also with sculpture and a stunning use of lacquer.

Hsu Yung-Chin is an artist with a strong voice who is confident in his message. He cares about society, economics, and politics. His art reflects his concern for local as well as global issues. He insists on perfection in his work, but enjoys the normal parts of life. 

The curator of the recent show, Zheng Fang-He, borrowed the word “Beyond” from post-colonial critic Homi Bhabha for the exhibition’s title. She said, “Hsu Yung Jin’s work in Beyond Calligraphy embraces Bhabha’s perspective that a contemporary artist need not entirely abandon traditional forms, such as calligraphy, in order to express a modern sensibility. Instead, the contemporary artist explores and explodes out into many different directions in a way that celebrates both the culture’s past and present identity. Indeed, it is by exploring the various dimensions of their culture that a contemporary artist finds their own voice.”

Homi Bhabha’s argument is the best way to interpret Taiwan’s culture and Hsu Yung-Chin is the best spokesperson for Taiwanese culture. 

Taiwan Dream, 180 Degree Panoramic Theatre, 2011, Hsu Yung-Chin

Taiwan Dream, 180 Degree Panoramic Theatre, 2011, Hsu Yung-Chin

Coevolution and Speciation in Contemporary Chinese Calligraphy. 

The Evolution of Hsu Yung Chin’s Modern Calligraphy

by  Bai ShiMing Ph.D, Professor, Deparment of Art, Shida University, 2014

How can Chinese calligraphy become more contemporary? What would a contemporary calligraphy even look like? These types of questions imply that calligraphy is something static, which it is not.  It is an artform always in flux. Throughout Chinese calligraphy’s long history, it has been practiced by Confucianists, Taoist, and Buddhists. No matter who was practicing it, calligraphy has always been an important part of East Asian culture.  Today, because Chinese calligraphy is used less and less, its evolution has slowed. So much so that it may appear static to many. How then can Chinese calligraphy remain a relevant part of contemporary culture? 

While the idea of a modern calligraphy is already a part of contemporary culture, its aesthetic has yet to be defined. What ideas should guide a modern calligrapher? What parts of the old artform should remain in the new? It was these types of questions that caused a group of  Japanese calligraphers to declare “the end of Chinese calligraphy era”. It was a call to abandon the traditional scripts, calligraphers, ancient works and theories in order to create a new model upon which a reinvigorated era of calligraphy could take hold. They wanted to move beyond the traditional symbolism and cultural heritage of Chinese calligraphy and forge an, “intercultural, interracial, interlanguage…mixed cultural type [of calligraphy].” The influence of this Japanese calligraphy movement has been broadly felt and their ideas have started to become the foundation for modern Chinese calligraphy. 

Taiwan has been a part of this modern calligraphy movement since 1990. Hsu Yung Chin was one of the original artists who was sensitive to the need for an avante garde calligraphy. Hsu said that, “Traditional calligraphy is already disconnected from modern times. If it does not transform, it will die out. We need to develop a new type of visual art and move beyond the conventions of traditional calligraphy. This is not a criticism of traditional calligraphy, instead, it is a way to construct a modern aesthetic for Taiwanese calligraphy, one which places the emotive above the functional.”

  

The tools of calligraphy, the techniques behind the styles, and the rules of character construction are the building blocks upon which calligraphy’s aesthetic is first formed and from which it further evolves. By using these fundamentals in a variety of ways, an evolution occurs, one where new species of calligraphy split off and become something unique. 

In Hsu’s over 40 years of practicing calligraphy, he has created many ideas and aesthetics which have grown and split off into new ideas themselves. This is how a modern aesthetic is nurtured and developed. Today, Hsu is taking modern calligraphy even farther than before. His recent works are all fresh and emblazoned with truly living scripts. These vital works contain characters which which transmit something far more than words ever could.  They breathe and have a pulse. It is this way because the art is a part Hsu Yung Chin. He transmits his ever changing perspective and experience of life on to the page.  It is in this way that he produces his vision for a modern calligraphy. One where the tools have been transformed into art, where innovation trumps tradition, where perception is more important than knowledge, and most importantly, where being true to yourself, and your evolution, is more important than abiding by authority. 

Tao Te Ching, 70cmx240cmx6, Ink on paper, 2013, Hsu Yung-Chin

 A Zen Reading of Hsu Yung-Chin

by Ling Gu Fang/Zen Teacher

You must cut away the entanglements of life in order to access and act according to your essential nature. This is a basic Zen principle. However, if there is an intention to attain this essential nature, it cannot be done. This is a contradiction that Zen shares with art.    

Art was traditionally created when an artist was inspired and able to speak from a point of deep emotion, “what is truly in your heart is shown on the outside.” Today’s contemporary artists now focus more on skillful performances. Performances that are full of intention. This is why contemporary art has become entertainment, divorced from the ideas of Zen. Any association between contemporary art and Zen principles exists in the mind of the critic or artist, not in the works themselves. 

For instance, many critics associate the works of Marcel Duchamp with Zen.  Duchamp’s work and ideas are sacrosanct for many people and his followers continue to emphasize the notions of deconstruction and subversion. But their egos overshadow their work. They can quote Eastern philosophy when explaining their art, but they are coming from a different place entirely.   

If art is to be associated with Zen, it must break the entanglements of the mind.

Of course, art does not have to be related to Zen. But Zen’s wisdom and focus on self-cultivation can make for a profound relationship with the arts. Zen poetry and painting contain a quality that endures. What’s more, it enriches the artist who creates it and raises them to a higher spiritual state.  This is why ascribing Zen qualities to art should not be done lightly. It is only after an artist is able to embody the spirit of Zen that their work can carry the label.  

When I look at Hsu Yung-Chin’s work, I see the lack of intention that forms the core of Zen philosophy. What attracts me most is how Hsu’s characters each contain their own atmosphere and qi energy and yet all the characters come together to create a whole with an atmosphere and energy of its own. Because of qi, the lines are alive. Because of qi, the characters are cohesive yet fluid. Because of qi the work is organic and unpretentious. 

Hsu’s skill has only improved as he has grown older and the qi present in his work has only increased.  Even after having had a stroke, which took a high physical toll, his work is all the more natural and vital.  His writing has become slower, but there is less intention now, and as a result it is more organic, fluid, and full of qi. 

Qi is present in people and in the world around them, but the most valuable qi occurs naturally. When qi is used in art it is often done with displays of intention and ego. This makes for a type of art that is interesting and full of skill, yet lacks a sense of calm. This sense of calm is devoid of anger and intention. It is a part of life’s natural order.  Because Hsu’s daily life is intertwined with Zen practice and contemplation, he is a contemporary calligrapher unlike any other. 

Contemporary calligraphy can be made out of conscious reflection or as a natural unconscious expression that comes out of endless practice. The first produces a strong theme but struggles at touching the heart while the second transcends ideas of traditional and contemporary art. Hsu has explored different aspects of contemporary art, but he does so without intention, staying grounded in the essential parts of life. Because of this, he effortlessly dissolves the boundaries between traditional and contemporary art.  He does this without pretension, allowing the viewer to simply absorb the raw emotion. This is why Hsu is fundamentally different from other contemporary artists.

Is art essential or a tool? Is it life or a stage? Should it flow naturally or be full of intention? These are the questions that artists must reflect upon. How can Hsu have a stroke and yet have another breakthrough? It is interesting how breakthroughs often come after suffering and painful change. 

In traditional calligraphy, Hsu’s brushwork has achieved a level of effortlessness and transcendence that might not be immediately apparent to a viewer. However, this disconnection between the viewer’s appreciation and Hsu’s work underscores the true lack of intention the work contains. 

Indeed, it is impossible to capture the essence of Hsu Yung-Chin in words. 

Flying Dragon in the Sky, 223x122cm, 2003, Hsu Yung-Chin

Allowing a divine voice to guide my hand    
by Hsu Yung-Chin


                                         

In my early years as an artist, because I was strict about following the rules of calligraphy, my writing was too stiff.  In the 1970s, I won first prize in seven different national calligraphy competitions, yet I derived no joy from these accomplishments.  An important change occurred when I asked my teacher Wang Chuang-Wei if I should I join a creative calligraphy competition. He advised me to stop competing and focus on personal expression. So, in the 1980s, my interest shifted to ink painting. I found the change refreshing. In this art form, I discovered a new joy and freedom to explore. In the decades that followed, I focused on ink painting and sought out advice from masters such as Liu He-Bei, Su Fung-Nan, Fu Zhuan-Fu, and Li Yi-Hong. I also traveled to China to speak with the master Wu Guan-Jhong. These masters impressed upon me the importance of themes, so my ink painting exhibitions were based on various themes. 

I was reluctant to leave ink painting and the joy I had found in it, but calligraphy kept calling to me, saying, “If you cannot connect calligraphy with modern times, your work will have been in vain.” My inner voice oscillated between painting and calligraphy.  Eventually, my paramount objective became creating a relevant form of contemporary calligraphy. 

In the 90s, I rededicated myself to calligraphy. Back when I was competing, people said I was the next Wang Xi-Zhi, but I didn’t want to be a version of someone else. So I focused on cursive calligraphy. Every day, I filled scroll after scroll, and over time I have amassed thousands of scrolls.  When I am writing calligraphy, I feel like I am a fish happily swimming in ink. This feeling, coupled with my zen practice, gives relief to my mind and body.

I had wanted to become a painter, but when I thought about the demoralizing way that calligraphy was being taught, I felt bad for the students. Their vitality was being squeezed out of them by an ill-informed pedagogy. Ink painting had taught me the importance of letting nature become my teacher and guide and I wanted to bring that to calligraphy. Now when I practice calligraphy, I approach it with the mentality of a painter in order to capture the feeling of that moment. 

A simple way that painting and calligraphy can be united is seen in the TAIWAN logo. The logo is comprised of letters, yet each letter represents one or more human silhouettes. Another way I mix the two art forms can be seen in the way I capture times of disaster, seen in the works Shock 911, Black turning Red, Sky Shakes - Earth Trembles, Mudslide, and The Great Flood. When I united ink painting experience with calligraphy, I finally found a path to my true voice: I write out my paintings, and I paint out my writing.

When I write calligraphy, I empty my mind, and feel the qi that flows between the lines. Everything follows my breathing  and intuition. My mind is devoid of a specific form. There is always an inner voice guiding my hand. I just relax and let the lines flow out of me. 

Every day I wake up and practice meditation in order to cherish every moment of the day to come. I often go for walks and  wander in nature. By being aware of the present moment, I feel the unity between nature and mind.  This brings me back to the essential nature of my being. It feels as though the world has been made for me.  Studying calligraphy is not just arduous practice, it is deeply related to self cultivation. If your mind is open, your calligraphy will be unimpeded by obstacles. Meditation takes care of my mind and heart but it also improves my calligraphy. 

Seven years ago, I ate a piece of strong mint flavored gum and had a stroke. Since then, I have learnt  about the impermanence of life and the importance of being grateful and cherishing our rich and beautiful existence. If I settle my mind, the whole world feels settled. This is also true for my calligraphy. If I release the tension in my mind, the ink flows with comfort and ease. Now my life is like a message from an old painting, “Three meals, rolls of books, a few cups of tea, and incense.” Every day, I write, draw, eat, drink tea, walk, breath incense, read, meditate and sleep. I live a peaceful and comfortable life. Living in the present is like drinking deeply from a fresh spring; it puts my mind at ease and it is the source of my inspiration. 

Now, at 60, I have recently started working with people in other fields. In doing so, I have learned that creativity is not confined within the boundaries of one’s chosen practice.  Calligraphy, and my work within it, is not restricted by either material or content.  It is able to leave the page and fuse with film, architecture, dance, music, technology, industrial design, and sculpture. Mixing calligraphy with these other art forms reduces neither its power nor its beauty; it fills calligraphy with a new vitality.

The recent exhibition of my work at Taipei’s Museum of Contemporary Art contained more variety than any of my past 20 solo exhibitions.  In addition to calligraphy written in ink and acrylic paint, there was a film projected on to a panoramic screen, a calligraphy demo mixed with digital art, a large statue of calligraphy,  and interactive digital art. Calligraphy remained at the center of all these works. 

That show represented a transformation

both for both myself and for my work. 

60 is a new beginning.  

At Present, 100x240cm, 2011, Hsu Yung-Chin